“No, take a moment to look at things from his perspective. He just got betrayed by a woman he’d vowed till death with,” she reminds me. “The wound is fresh. He’s been a single dad for years, even though he was married. He’s never been loved right, and now that he is? He doesn’t know what to do with it. Of course, he panicked.”
I blink hard.
“He’s not pushing you away because he doesn’t want you,” Ava continues softly. “He’s pushing you away because he doesn’t think he deserves you. He’s scared, and men don’t know how to handle scared.”
A weak laugh escapes me. “Clearly.”
“And you,” she adds, tapping my knee, “need a therapist.”
I groan. “Ava…”
“I’m serious. You almost died, lost your career in that accident, almost got kidnapped, watched men get killed in your own home, lost trust in people you love, and swallowed everything to protect everyone else.”
My throat tightens again.
“My love,” she whispers, “you’ve been hurt. A lot. And you’ve never let yourself heal.”
She’s right. She’s painfully right.
I whisper, “I… think I want help. I think I need it.”
Ava smiles softly, like she’s relieved. “Good. Because you deserve to feel whole. And you deserve to love without feeling like you’re borrowing time.”
I exhale, shaky. “And Cole?” I ask.
Ava squeezes my hands. “If you still want him, fight for him. But only when you’re ready. And only if he’s willing to meet you halfway.”
I nod slowly, and for the first time in days, the ache in my chest doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like a beginning.
26
COLE
It’s been three days since Ella lit into her brothers, three days since her voice cracked through the air like thunder, three days since I stood out on their patio listening to every raw, painful confession she threw at them. I didn’t mean to listen. I’d come by the house to consult Hank about the project, but the moment I heard her voice—strained, shaking, and nothing like the bright girl everyone thinks she is—I froze.
I shouldn’t have stayed. I should’ve walked away, given them privacy, but something kept my boots planted to the ground as her words spilled, each one slicing through me. She’s been carrying everything since she was seventeen—guilt over things that were never her fault, pain her brothers should’ve helped hershoulder instead of letting her bury it. I knew she hid her pain well, but I didn’t know she hid it that well.
It’s haunted me ever since.
I can’t get the sound of her voice out of my head—angry, hurting, exhausted. And beneath it all, the truth I missed: she’s strong, but she’s been strong alone for far too long.
Aria slides onto the porch beside me, kicking her heels against the step. She has her helmet under one arm and her riding gloves on. She looks at me expectantly, then at the corral in the distance where Daisy is trotting slow circles.
“Daddy?” she calls softly. “Um… is Miss Ella coming to train me today?”
The question carries more weight than she understands. My chest tightens before I can answer.
“She’s… taking some time,” I tell her gently, resting a hand on her back. “She’s okay, but she’s resting.”
Aria bites her lip. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, baby.” I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair. “This is grown-up stuff. Not your fault.”
She nods slowly, but her shoulders slump. “Miss Ella makes training fun, and she likes it when I get better. She smiles real big.”
“I know she does,” I whisper.
She peers at me, expression small. “Do you think she’s still gonna train me?”
